


Make the Yuletide Gay

by dollylux



Series: Fic Advent Calendar 2015: Siblings, Husbands, Lovely Ladies, and Other Miscreants [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Always, Christmas Fluff, Crushes, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, First Kiss, M/M, Mall Santa - Freeform, Nat is an Elf, Sam Wilson is a Mall Santa, but so is Steve, christmas elves - Freeform, gift wrapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda has a crush on a Christmas elf at the mall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Yuletide Gay

**Author's Note:**

> day three | prompt: naughty or nice

Wanda’s got it bad for an elf.

Not like… a _Lord of the Rings_ elf (though Tauriel is definitely, definitely hot), but a real one.

Well. A mall one.

The one who works with Bucky’s boyfriend Steve in the center of the mall, who wears red-and-white striped tights and a snug green dress and a little green hat with a gold bell on it and has rosy pink cheeks and the most amazing breasts she’s ever seen.

Seriously, an elf should not have tits like that. It probably makes jingling and jangling very… bouncy.

“Christ,” Wanda whispers to herself, her cheeks flushing as she puts the last piece of tape on the gift she’s wrapping. She tops it with a red bow and fills out the gift tag with careful, flowing script, triple checking that she’d spelled the names right before she hands it back to the guy waiting at their table. “Here you go. Happy Holidays!”

She takes the next box that needs to be wrapped, the tips of her fingers raw from all the tape, her back hurting from leaning over to fold and tie and cut for the last four hours. She rolls out the old lady’s chosen snowflake wrapping paper and sets the box on it.

“Did you see your elf today?” Clint asks as he tugs out some sparkly gold paper and slices it off the roll in a clean, quick movement. “She’s lookin’ extra festive. Wearing some glittery black boots that go almost to her knees.”

Wanda’s hands fumble as she cuts her own paper, accidentally slicing it at a ridiculously horrible angle that won’t cover the surface of the damn box. She groans, tossing it aside, and tries again.

“She’s not my elf,” is the only thing she can think to say in return, hoping Clint is too busy wrapping the gift in front of him to notice that she’s blushing. “Besides, she’s probably straight. Probably has a boyfriend and plans on having two kids before she’s thirty and hates girls who smell like scotch tape and fake Christmas spirit.”

“Hmm. Steve just said he saw her flirt with a girl earlier today, so I don’t think she’s totally straight,” Bucky pipes up from her left as he taps at his phone screen. Wanda abandons all pretenses and drops her scissors.

“She was flirting with a girl? What girl? Who is she? Does she work at the mall?” Wanda pushes up onto her tiptoes, her Docs doing nothing to help her see over the jumble of heads milling about the mall.

“Calm down, killer,” Clint laughs, finishing up his gift and passing it down the line for Bucky to wrap it with ribbon and taking apparent pity on Wanda because he grabs her assigned gift and starts to wrap it as well. “He said flirting, not proposing.”

“I just wish I knew how to talk to her,” Wanda mumbles, reaching up to gather her hair and tossing it over one shoulder, annoyed. “I just freeze up every time I see her. It’s so stupid. It’s like… one look at her… her--”

“Rack?” Clint offers.

“Stop looking at her rack!” Wanda slaps him on the arm and steps back from the table to grab her bottle of water from the shelf behind her. “I’m serious. She’s so gorgeous. I lose my mind every single time.”

“I’ve got an idea.” 

It’s only because it’s Bucky and he’s generally not as annoying as Clint that Wanda even listens to him. She caps her bottle and swallows the water in her mouth, returning to the table and stopping beside Bucky.

“I’m listening.”

 

“This is the worst idea ever.” Wanda crosses and uncrosses her arms over her chest six times before she finally just shoves her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. The three of them are standing in line for Santa, surrounded by crying and shrieking children and their tired mothers after their shift at the gift-wrapping kiosk. Bucky isn’t even listening to her, is staring ahead at the front where Santa and his elves are, making eyes at Steve who is dressed in a green velvet tunic and shorts with peppermint-striped tights just like Wanda’s dream elf is wearing, and when Steve rings the little bell on his hat and winks at Bucky, Wanda has to roll her eyes.

“Your boyfriend is a massive dork,” Wanda informs Bucky. 

“I know, right?” He grins at Steve, starry-eyed and waving like a teenage girl. He finally looks away and turns his attention to Wanda, nodding over at the elf girl who is currently crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue at two little girls who seem nervous about climbing up onto Santa’s lap. “Okay, so her name is Natasha, she’s twenty, goes to NYU and is majoring in political science, and drives a red Civic.”

“Did you tell Steve to ask her out for me?” she replies, pushing up onto her toes again to see over the tall dad blocking her from Natasha, her future elf-wife. 

“He said you’re gonna have to do it yourself. Hey, we’re next.” They shuffle up to the front of the line while Steve lowers a tiny baby onto Santa’s lap; a guy named Sam who has a big grin and a hearty laugh that he very obviously practiced for hours before getting this gig. 

Natasha walks up to them with a professional smile, her boots indeed glittering today and forcing Wanda to give her as fast of a once-over as she can before she finds herself meeting Natasha’s green eyes and getting promptly lost in them.

“Aren’t you guys a little old for Santa?” She’s grinning, her hands on her curvy hips, her cheeks round and rosy with bright red blush that makes her look like every weird Christmas-themed fantasy Wanda’s ever had. 

“Oh, c’mon, we’re young at heart,” Bucky tells her, and she laughs, such a low, smoky sound that Wanda has to bite back the whimper.

“Hey, Bucky. Does Steve know you’re about to sit on another dude’s lap and tell him what you want him to give you for Christmas?” She quirks an eyebrow at Bucky just as Steve takes the gurgling baby from Sam and hands it back to his father.

“Next!” Steve calls, beaming at his boyfriend.

“Oh, this isn’t for me,” Bucky tells Natasha, both he and Clint taking a step back and pushing Wanda forward. “Wanda here has a special request.”

Wanda backs up from where she’s been almost shoved into Natasha’s personal space, practically stumbling over the red rope that organizes the line. She turns and gives Bucky and Clint a look of betrayed horror.

“I do?”

“Yeah, don’t you ‘member, Wanda?” Clint asks, his shit-eating grin so big it’s probably hurting his stupid face. “You didn’t want a picture with Santa. You’re more of an elf girl.”

“Oh, god,” Wanda breathes.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Natasha says, looking from Wanda to Bucky and Clint, her smile hesitant, like she’s afraid she’s the punchline of a joke somehow.

“Hey, Nat, can you do Wanda a favor?” Steve is there suddenly, big and pornstar-hunky in his elf costume, his massive shoulders lifting as he folds his arms over his chest. “She has something she wants for Christmas that she can only tell you.”

“You fuckers,” Wanda hisses, her whole face hot.

“Can she get a picture with you instead of Sam?” Steve is so earnest, so _adorable_ about it that Natasha gives in almost immediately, a painfully gorgeous smirk tugging at one side of her mouth as she turns all of her attention to Wanda.

“Is that what you want?” Her voice is low, so quiet that Wanda barely hears the question. She faces Natasha but can’t seem to meet her eyes, her nails digging into her palms at her sides as she fights with her own shyness to give this girl an answer.

“If… if it’s not too much trouble?” The question goes up at the end, hopeful and probably pathetic, but she manages to lift her gaze and finally meet Natasha’s eyes when she asks it. Natasha’s smirk folds out into a real smile, and she reaches down for one of Wanda’s tightly clenched hands and forces it to relax so she can lace their fingers together and tug her up toward the big red chair where Sam is lounging, waiting for his next patrons.

“Hey, what’s up? Ho, ho, ho!” Sam says with a grin. Natasha snorts and nudges at Sam’s leg with her boot.

“Get up a minute. Let us borrow your seat, Santa.”

“Why, Peppermint Jingletits, whatever could you want with Santa’s chair?” Sam looks between Wanda and Natasha like he’s figuring this out somehow, and his grin gets even bigger when it finally stops on Wanda.

“Don’t call me that, asswipe,” Natasha whispers hotly, reaching down to pinch Sam through his layers of fuzzy Santa suit.

“Ow!”

“Get up! You’re going to cause a revolt if you make those kids wait too much longer.” She turns to smile winningly at the line of children, giving them a little wave before she bodily hauls Sam up out of the seat. “Go flirt with the moms. You’re good at that.”

Natasha sinks down into the red velvet chair, looking dangerously hot even though she’s dressed like a cartoon character. She leans back in the seat and stares up at Wanda from under her long, dark eyelashes.

“Well, c’mon, cutie. It’s your turn.” She pats her lap, her arms draped over the rests to give Wanda room to sit down. 

Wanda turns to stare wide-eyed and terrified at Steve, Bucky, and Clint, not comforted at all by their enthusiastic thumbs-ups and stupid grins. She looks back down at Natasha, swallows thickly, and sits down on her lap.

“There we go,” Natasha breathes against her ear, one of her arms sliding around Wanda’s back to keep her where she is while the other crosses her body, pressing against her breasts while her hand settles on Wanda’s hip. She’s practically hugging her, her tits straining against the tight fabric of her elf-dress and so soft against Wanda’s arm. “Now, tell me your name, sweetheart.”

“Wanda,” she murmurs down at her lap where her hands are tangled together. There are so many people watching them, the photographer looking on impatiently, but Wanda couldn’t give two fucks about any of them. This is kind of a wet dream come true.

“I’m Natasha. Good little girls can call me Nat.” She pauses, her nose brushing Wanda’s cheek, her cherry-red mouth so close to her own. “Are you a good little girl?”

“Depends on the day,” Wanda replies, glancing over to meet Natasha’s eyes with a bashful smile. “But I try.”

“Good,” Natasha all but purrs, tightening her arms around Wanda to tug her up closer on her lap, Wanda crosses her legs, making sure no one can see up her black skirt, her heavy Doc Martens weighing her feet down as they hang off one side of the chair. “Now, I need you to be honest with me, Wanda. Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“I was really good for most of the year. And then I got this job here at the mall, wrapping presents. Over near the Pretzel Palace?” One of her hands slides down to fidget with Natasha’s tights, fingers plucking at the soft, skin-tight fabric above her knee. 

Natasha hums, her fingers spreading out on Wanda’s hip before they sink in deeper, her thumb sliding up to rub at the bare skin under Wanda’s burgundy sweater.

“What happened when you got the job? Why did it make you naughty?”

“Because,” she starts, her heart racing against her ribs, her eyes down and locked on the covered swell of Natasha’s breasts, obsessed with the steady rise and fall of them. “I started seeing this girl every day, dressed as an elf and working with Santa. And ever since that first day, I can’t stop having really bad thoughts.”

“Oh, is that right?” Natasha’s nose drags over her jaw, her bottom lip catching on it. Wanda’s eyes flutter closed, her breathing speeding up at the pleased little rumble she can hear and feel in Natasha’s chest. “Well, then. Your gift from Santa might be on the line here. Why don’t you tell me what you want this year, and I’ll see what I can do about it.”

“I just wanted to know…” She turns toward Natasha and catches her eyes, their mouths only inches apart now, and the only reason Wanda knows it’s real is because she can smell her, smell the cherry-almond of her perfume and feel the amazing heat from Natasha’s body. “If you would go out with me sometime?”

Natasha’s eyes flick between her own and her mouth, her mouth quirking into a smile while she rubs a slow circle over Wanda’s bare hipbone under her sweater. 

“Is that it? That’s all you want for Christmas?”

“That’s all I want, period.” She can’t help it if she sounds a little pleading, if she spreads her hand out on Natasha’s thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze out of nervousness and desperation.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Natasha says with a sigh. “I was really hoping you wanted a kiss, too.”

Wanda’s eyes widen as she searches Natasha’s.

“Is… is that a yes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha whispers, her smile only fading when she leans in and catches Wanda’s mouth in a gentle, kids-are-watching kiss. A light flashes as their picture is taken, and there’s a smatter of cheers and clapping from the group of people watching.

It’s not every day your first kiss with your girlfriend is captured on film and framed in a tacky, plastic wreath picture frame, but it’s Wanda’s favorite story to tell.


End file.
